


Hunger

by prepare4trouble



Category: Lost Boys (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Character Turned Into Vampire, Frogfic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-13
Updated: 2010-11-13
Packaged: 2017-10-31 16:45:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/346281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prepare4trouble/pseuds/prepare4trouble
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alan fights the urge to surrender to vampirism.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hunger

It wasn't like any hunger he had ever experienced before. Nor was it like any thirst. It was an insatiable need. He had a monster inside him, with fangs and claws. It scratched at his insides, torturing him while at the same time it whispered seductively into his mind, telling him that if he would just do what it wanted, he would feel okay again. He wanted so badly to feel okay. To feel anything other than this.

He screwed his eyes tightly shut and held his breath. Every muscle in his body tensed as he fought a war within himself. His half vampire body wanting – needing – to feed, while his still human mind railed against the terrible urge. Through closed eyes, tears began to fall. They left salty tracks down his unwashed skin. He shivered.

He lay in the fetal position on a dirty, creased up blanket slung in the corner of the derelict property where he was staying. He hadn't bathed in days, he hadn't done anything but resist. The need had grown steadily since that night when he had been forced to drink the vampire blood. Each night he told himself that it couldn't possibly get any worse than this, and each night he was proven wrong.

Soon, he was going to surrender. He would end a human life, and with it he would end his own. He would cease to be Alan Frog and would become the very thing that he had devoted his life to destroying.

He released the breath he had been holding, exhaling with a rasping sound that he thought of as the monster inside crying out for the blood it craved. Maybe, if he could just hold out a little longer, it would starve. It would die. He didn't care if it took him with it, death would be a welcome release from the torture that his life had become. 

Every muscle suddenly cramped as the monster tried a new tactic. He whimpered and tried to turn over, pulling the blanket across his shivering body and wondering how much more he could take before his mind snapped and he did whatever the monster wanted. He tried to breathe. It hurt. Every inch of skin felt as though it was on fire, yet he couldn't keep himself from shaking. The movement rubbed the scratchy, filthy blanket against any exposed skin and it felt as though it was rubbing him raw.

Every sense was amplified, his nose could smell the garbage dumped in the ally outside. Worse, he could smell himself. A fowl mixture of sweat and the dirt picked up from the floor of the disused building. His oversensitive hearing could pick out the footsteps of the rats that scurried around the building, all sensibly keeping their distance from what they knew was a dangerous predator in the downstairs room.

Outside, something began rooting through the garbage, and the monster inside him whispered a compromise.

***

Alan could barely walk, every bit of strength and concentration went into putting one foot in front of the other. His hands gripped the wall for support, or he would simply fall down. Just a few more nights and he would be so immobilized by hunger that he would have no choice but to wait for death in that room.

Part of him hated himself for surrendering, but the monster urged him on. It spoke to the part of him that wanted to live. If he wouldn't take a human life, if he was so determined not to turn, then he could preserve his life in this form. And maybe one day, he could regain his humanity. He felt its insincerity as is told him that, and knew that it didn't believe it could happen. It simply wanted to survive so that it could continue its quest to turn him. But he was stronger than that, he had resisted up to now, and he could do it again. This was an imperfect solution, but one he could live with. He hoped.

He found the cat rooting around the overturned metal trash cans in the ally behind where he was staying. It was a stray, so thin that his keen night vision could make out the shape of its ribs through its fur. As he approached, it looked at him, at first in alarm, and then curiosity. Either it failed to sense the monster in the way that the rats did, or in his obviously weakened state it didn't perceive him as a threat.

He held out a trembling hand towards it, the shaking this time caused not by his own hunger, but by the knowledge of what he was about to to. The cat had no fear of him. It walked towards the doorway where he stood, sniffing the air curiously, hoping that the proffered hand contained food. It was so hungry that the need to eat had overridden its instinct for self preservation. At that thought, Alan felt a sudden pang of kinship with the pitiable animal. He hesitated for a second, before his hands grabbed its skinny body. For a moment, he could feel the terrified pounding of the creature's heart as it tried to struggle, realizing too late that it fallen for a trap. 

He felt the monster within him come to the surface, and felt its surge of excitement at finally being allowed to sate its need. Fangs protruded, he felt their sharp tips with the end of his tongue and raised the still struggling cat toward them. He straightened the neck and allowed the sharp teeth to pierce its skin.

Blood filled his mouth, warm and nourishing and terrible. He fought the urge to spit it out even as he fought the urge to swallow. The monster won that battle and he allowed the liquid to run down his throat. He felt his strength returning almost immediately, and with it came the clarity of mind that he had begun to lose days earlier. It allowed him to fight the monster again, push it down into the recesses of his mind. The fangs retracted, and he looked down at the tiny body in his hands.

It looked smaller now than it had when it was alive. It flopped unnaturally in his hands. Tears blurred his vision as he petted the blood soaked fur in silent thanks. Regret mixed with gratitude and he marveled at the fact that he could feel something other than the need.

After several minutes standing there cradling the cooling corpse, he righted the trash can and dropped the body inside. “I'm sorry,” he whispered, and then turned away, licking the blood from his fingers.

Inside, the monster smiled.


End file.
